And If The Music Is Good, You Dance
by brokenbottleaurora
Summary: H/Hr. One of the few original scenes added to the DH movies that I liked was the dance Harry and Hermione share in the tent. This is my own take on how it might have gone and what may have happened after. Harmony. Slight AU. Slightly OOC. Mostly fluff.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: If the Potterverse was mine, things would have gone very differently. That said, many thanks to JK Rowling for letting us play in the world she created. It's one hell of a sandbox._

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of her cot and stared blankly out the front of the tent to where Harry was seated keeping watch. The cold, gray, drizzly weather hadn't stopped for a week. There was almost no food left in the kitchen from their last tense grocery run. Ron had been gone for nearly a month. Worst of all, she had a horcrux hanging from her neck. She was hungry, depressed, and irritable, and there was no end in sight.

She flopped back onto her pillow and heaved a sigh. It had been a long few months. They had been on the run, and creature comforts had been few and far between. Really, that would have been fine with Hermione if only they had managed to make some progress. If she was honest with herself, she had to agree with Ron just a tiny bit- wandering and doing nothing was _hard_. But she would never abandon Harry over it. Even if she had known what hardships this adventure with Harry would entail, she still would have been the first to sign up. There was nothing more important than what they were doing. Or at least trying to do. The more she thought about it, the less she understood how Ron could walk away. When he left, any lingering torch she had carried for him was doused. She could never love a man who could only weather the easy days; if he couldn't shoulder the hard times, she wasn't going to share the best ones with him either.

Hermione tossed and turned for several minutes as she tried to shut off her mind and just nap. She needed a reprieve. She needed to get away from the world for a while. Realizing that sleep would remain elusive, she stood and walked to the table that held their wireless set, which Arthur and Remus had helped her charm to receive both magical and muggle broadcasts. Fiddling with the dial, she searched for something other than static. She finally picked up what seemed to be a muggle new program. The reporter was giving an impassioned report of yet another bridge collapse, this time in Cardiff, and implying the rash of strange disasters was God's response to the country's lack of morals. Hermione plonked her head on the table and let out another heavy sigh. It was hard to keep the faith when they were taking one step forward and two steps back.

She heard swift steps across the tent and looked up to see Harry reach for the dial.

"Don't do this to yourself, Mione," he softly chided her.

Hermione shrugged and nodded to the wireless set. "You give it a shot. Maybe you can find us some better news."

Harry nodded and began searching. Just as he was about to give up, he caught the last few bars of upbeat music. A man's smooth voice can through the speakers, saying, "Hello again, friends, and happy end of the work week! Across Britain, we've been experiencing some sad and frightening incidents- fires, bombings, natural disasters, you name it. In light of all the depressing events of recent days, we here at the station have decided to institute "Feel Good Fridays". We're gonna play nothing but a full hour of songs that make you smile, dance, and laugh. All. Program. Long. And we want you to get in on the positivity! Sing along, dance, get together with your friends and celebrate another day of living. Find something good in today and put some good vibes back into the universe! But enough from me. Let's kick off this hour of feeling good with a little 'dancing' number- here's 'September' by Earth, Wind, and Fire."

Strains of brass instruments floated into the tent. Against her better judgment, Hermione felt her foot start tapping along with the beat. She looked up and saw that Harry had a small smile on his face, the first one in what felt like months. That was really a shame. He had a great smile.

Hermione mentally shook herself and tamped those thoughts down. She was just glad to see him feeling a little less depressed. Harry looked over with a strange spark in his eyes and held out his hand. Oh no, she thought. Given her thoughts ten seconds ago, dancing with Harry was probably not a good idea. As she was about to decline, she could see him droop a bit and start to withdraw his hand. What kind of monster would she be to deprive this man of a little happiness, however awkward she might find it at first. She immediately grabbed his hand, and she was rewarded with a megawatt grin. Harry tugged her into the living area and started to reach for her when he caught sight of the locket around her neck. He reached behind her, gently tugged it over her head, and laid it on the table.

"We can let it go, just for a little while," he said softly.

Hermione smiled and nodded, immediately feeling more herself. Harry took her hands again and they began clumsily twirling each other around the tent. The voice in the radio crooned "never was a cloudy day", and Hermione could actually feel her spirits lifting. Harry suddenly wrapped her up and dipped her low, and she threw her head back and coughed out a surprised laugh. As he spun her back out, Hermione was grateful for the moment of respite that put that mischievous grin back on her best friend's face.

As the song faded out, she pulled back, expecting Harry to release her. Suddenly, her eyes went wide as she heard Mel B talking about what she really, really wants. Hermione threw caution to the wind and started jumping and shimmying around the tent, singing the lyrics at the top of her lungs. Harry stood still for a moment, seemingly stunned. Hermione stopped in front him, grabbed his hands, and screamed, "Friendship never ends!" Coming out of his trance, Harry joined in. For the next couple minutes, the two flailed around the tent with as much silliness and gusto as they could muster.

The two best friends continued this way until they could dance no more. When the songs allowed, they danced together, twirling and whirling and dipping and skipping. When the song was too bouncy, they thrashed around like idiots, making up crazy moves to make the other laugh. As they danced, they heard the reception become steadily more staticky.

Finally, the man's voice came back through speakers. "Alright folks, we hope you've enjoyed the last two hours of Feel Good Fridays. Sadly, I have to say goodbye for now. We'll be back with the same programming next week, same time, same place. For now, I'll leave you with a little sunshine from the Fab Four." Gentle, melodic guitar music flooded the area. Harry embraced her, and she thought she felt him hold her just a little closer. They swayed slowly, and Hermione dropped her head to his chest and enjoyed the last few moments before she had to put the locket back on. As the song faded to static, she looked up into a pair of finally peaceful emerald eyes.

"Thank you for that, Harry. I needed that more than I want to admit," she whispered.

"I think we both needed it," Harry countered. "I'm going to write down the station. We're doing this again next week."

Hermione nodded. She gave him a small sad smile, kissed him gently on the cheek, and drifted back to the table. As she looked out the front of the tent, she saw that the sun had indeed come out and was setting behind the trees. Steeling herself she dropped the horcrux back over her head. A feeling of dread washed over her, and she sat back down at the table as she watched Harry take up his sentry post yet again. Despite the gloom she now felt, she couldn't help but look forward to next Friday and another dance with her best friend.

* * *

Another week dragged by as the two teens racked their brains in search of an answer to their horcrux problems:

1) They didn't know how to get their hands the remaining ones

2) They couldn't destroy the one they had

3) The one they had was slowly driving them to insanity

Hermione felt like the Israelites in the Bible, as though the two of them were doomed to wander rural Britain for forty years. Every other morning or so they packed everything into her beaded bag, dismantled the wards, and Apparated to another destination of no particular import. All that really mattered is that they kept moving. It was exhausting.

By the time the next Friday rolled around, Hermione had almost forgotten their standing dance date. Harry, on the other hand, was ready. After breakfast, he helped her with the dishes and then immediately moved to the wireless. He located the station and turned the volume to very low, just loud enough that they would hear when Feel Good Friday. At four o'clock the pair was getting ready to assemble yet another meager supper when they heard a semi-familiar voice rise above the crackle.

"Hello again, loyal listeners, it's your old pal Good Time Charlie back with Feel Good Friday. Last week was such a hit, our wonderful producers have decided to extend our program until eight p.m. You heard it right, that's four full hours of non-stop positivity! That's like your local extending happy hour by a full 120 minutes- maybe even better than that! Kicking us off tonight is a little throwback from 1982, here's AAAAAAFRICA!"

Hermione caught Harry's gaze and raised a single eyebrow. Harry just shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He went back to chopping vegetables as Hermione stirred the boiling pasta. When the chorus hit, the two friends simultaneously began belting it at the top of their lungs. They quickly turned to gape at each other, both shocked at the other's sudden vocal performance. Neither one would remember who started laughing first, but by the time they managed to catch their breath, the pasta was one big clump and bell pepper innards covered the kitchen floor. Harry was the first to wipe his eyes and stagger to his feet. He offered Hermione a hand, which she gladly accepted, and she vanished the mess. She began breaking the clumped noodles apart and looked back at him with a curious expression.

"Harry, if you don't mind my asking, how do you know all these songs? I'm really glad you do because this has been a blast, but I just figured, with all crap they put you through, the Dursleys would have forbidden you from listening to their wireless," she inquired.

Harry looked back down at the chopping board. Sensing his reluctance to talk about his less than pleasant past, Hermione quickly focused on stirring the pasta sauce and started babbling, "Harry, I shouldn't have asked. We were having a great time, and really it's none of my business, just pretend I nev-"

"Breathe, Mione! It's okay, you just kind of caught me off guard is all. And if it's anyone else's business, it would be yours," Harry explained. Hermione, still concentrating on the simmering sauce, quietly sucked in a breath. He continued, "They never allowed me to listen to their wireless, but when they left the house and didn't lock me up, I would sneak into the parlor and listen to it the whole time they were gone. The set was next to the window, so I could see the drive from where I sat and I always put it back the way I found it as soon as I saw the car. Later, Dudley got two small boomboxes for Christmas in one year, so he did something uncharacteristically kind and gave me the spare. I hid it under a loose board in the cupboard and listened to it anytime I got stuck in there. Music was always an escape."

Hermione continued stirring, unsure how to respond at first. A few moments later, she looked over Harry and gave him a small smile. "You're really something, Potter," she said. "There's always another layer to peel back."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You comparing me to an onion?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. You've got a ton of layers. You're also really pale and kind of stinky," she deadpanned.

"Hey now!" he chortled, "I'm offended!"

The two fell into an easy banter as they finished the meal, silently agreeing to put heavier topics on the back burner and just enjoy an evening of laughter, food, and good music. When they finished their meal and the subsequent cleanup, they spent the rest of the night dancing and singing along to the program. Each felt it had not been nearly long enough when Good Time Charlie came back on and bid his listeners a good night. When Harry seemed reluctant to release her as she left his arms to cut off the wireless, Hermione chalked it up to her hopeful, over-active imagination. She watched him slide the locket around his neck and shortly retreat to his cot, eschewing her company in his horcrux-induced brooding. Every bad mood that came and went only made her want to get rid of this Merlin-forsaken locket more. There had to be a solution. And she was going to find it, if only so she and Harry could wander the countryside without the constant added gloom.

* * *

Harry had taken to turning the wireless to the same station every morning after breakfast. The station had turned out to be a welcome blessing. It provided succinct news reports every day, quickly reporting on the various "unfortunate events", "record-breaking disasters", and "strange disturbances" across the country. However, it also took the time to report positive stories, no matter how insignificant or far away, especially those about people helping others in the aftermath of said sad events. Its musical programs played a variety of music, mostly classic rock, pop, and easy listening.

One Tuesday around midmorning, Hermione was reading her copy of "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" for the millionth time when she heard Charlie's name on the radio. Apparently he had some exciting news for listeners after the next song.

"Harry! Get in here!" she yelled excitedly through the tent flap, cranking up the dial.

"What is it?!" Harry called as he ran in brandishing his wand, scanning the room for the danger that had caused Hermione to call him so urgently.

"Charlie's on!" she exclaimed, "and it's only Tuesday!"

Harry just looked at her. "Really? That's what was so important?"

She blushed, realizing he'd thought she was in danger. "Sorry, Harry. I just got excited."

Harry sagged into the kitchen chair, relieved. "It's fine, Mione. This damn locket makes me overreact to every bloody thing, it's not your- Oh hey, listen, it's Charlie!"

"Hey, hey, hey again my friends, it's Good Time Charlie. No, despite your best efforts you didn't sleep until Friday evening. Feel Good Friday has been such a success that the station has decided to host a mid-week Happy Hour every Tuesday! That's right, you don't have to wait for the weekend to get another couple hours of nothing but positive vibes and jolly good songs. Join me here every Tuesday from ten a.m. until noon and together we can keep putting the good stuff back out into the universe. Here we go again, this time with a little number that's been signed, sealed, and delivered right from Stevie Wonder to you.

Almost as if they had planned it, the two friends moved to each other. Harry placed the locket on the table, and they danced away another two of their never-ending hours in the tent.

Weeks passed, and the two fell into the same routine. The wireless was always turned on after breakfast, and anytime Charlie's program was on they danced for its entirety, barring meal times. Hermione was really surprised that she never got tired of dancing for hours every week, but instead of getting bored with it, she was always left wanting more. The whole thing was completely uncharacteristic of her. She had never been one to let loose and dance and sing like a fool in front of ANYONE, even her friends and family. She refused to acknowledge what- or, rather, who- she knew was the reason for this change. Hermione just felt so at home with Harry. He never judged her for her bookishness or her bossy nature. He laughed with her instead of at her. He called her out when she needed it. He balanced out her more serious nature. He made her feel safe enough to be vulnerable. He made her feel strong enough to stand by his side as they fought Voldemort together.

Merlin, she had to nip this in the bud. She could not afford to have these kinds of thoughts about her best friend- especially not right now! But it was so difficult when he was so wonderful. Never mind that, Hermione thought, eyes on the prize. The more she found herself feeling this way about Harry, the more she threw herself into the horcrux hunt, still with no results.

Halfway through December, as Charlie closed his mid-week show, Harry stopped Hermione on her way back to the sentry post.

"Mione, can you sit down with me for a minute? I have an idea, but I'd like to hear your opinion," he said.

Warily, Hermione sat in her usual kitchen chair. "Okay, I'm officially suspicious. Do your worst, Potter," she instructed.

Harry rolled his eyes, but then he took a deep breath. "We've been discussing it off and on for months… but I really think it's time... I want to go to Godric's Hollow!" he blurted out.

Hermione was unsurprised. They _had_ been talking about visiting, and as Christmas approached she thought it incredibly normal that Harry was thinking more and more about visiting the place he lost his parents. Honestly, she had been expecting this conversation far earlier.

"I figured this was going to come up sooner rather than later," she admitted. "I made a list of pros and cons. Here, read it and see what you think."

Harry snorted. "Of course you made a list," he teased as he took the list from her.

Pros:

\- Talk to Bathilda Bagshot

\- May have GG's sword

\- Find out more about Dumbledore?

\- See if she can give leads/advice

\- Harry can visit his parents' grave

Cons:

\- DANGER

\- Spies for V

\- V himself

\- Booby-traps

\- Emotional toll

"Wow, you really thought this through, didn't you," he conceded. "I agree with all these. Though the danger is to be expected. We run that risk every time we go out in public, even if we're disguised. That being said, we can put together a solid plan and a couple contingency plans to protect ourselves. As for the emotional toll, all I can say is that I need this, Mione. I try not to think about it, but I've never even seen my parents' grave. I've never gotten to say goodbye. Or thank you. Or I miss you. Nothing. I think it would be nice to have some semblance of closure," he concluded.

Well, Hermione couldn't argue with that. She took the day to mull it over, and that evening they put together a plan. They decided to visit on Christmas Eve night. The cemetery would likely have no visitors then, and it was a good bet that Bathilda Bagshot would be home even if she had spent the day celebrating with friends. They disillusioned themselves and used to cloak to sneak hair samples from a couple nondescript muggles. Hermione mentally patted herself on the back for having brewed Polyjuice Potion in bulk that summer. When the day arrived, they swallowed the potion, disillusioned themselves, got under the invisibility cloak, and Apparated to Godric's Hollow in search of answers.

* * *

 **A/N: It's been pointed out to me that this would likely work best as a two-part story, and after a little more experience writing and posting, I have to agree. Apologies to anyone who has this story on alert- nothing new to see here, just changing some formatting!**


	2. Chapter 2

When asked about it later, Harry would admit that "the whole bloody thing was one giant cock-up." Hermione would agree. How he managed to Apparate them out of Bathilda's house she would never know; she could only chalk it up to his normal, unusually good luck and ability to operate perfectly under immense pressure. However, when they arrived back at their tent, Harry was screaming and moaning and obviously in a lot of pain as he alternately clutched his head and clawed at his chest. The first she understood. The latter made no sense to her, unless…

The horcrux!

Of course it would react to being in Voldermort's presence. Calming herself enough to levitate Harry, she maneuvered him onto his and ripped open his shirt. The locket was seared to his chest!

Hermione tried every spell she could think of the pry it off his chest- she banished it, she summoned it, she even tried to put a shield bubble around it, all to no avail. Finally, she resorted to petrifying Harry and very carefully using a severing spell to cut it from his chest. She quickly flung it elsewhere and released him, summoning the dittany from her bag and getting to work on his wounds. As she worked and even after she finished, Harry continued to moan and cry and occasionally scream.

She sat with him through the night, praying he would wake and be all right. Finally, just before dawn, he started moaning coherent sentences, and she began trying to wake him from his fitful state.

"Harry," she cried gently as she shook his shoulder lightly, "it's okay, we're safe!"

"No! Mione. Run! " he wailed.

Her heart constricted. "It's okay," she cooed. "I'm okay, you're okay, we're safe."

After a few more rounds of Hermione assuring him they alright, Harry blearily opened his eyes. He took in her haggard appearance and quickly put together the gist of what was going on.

"How long was I out?" he asked quietly, dismayed that he was the source of her weariness.

"Several hours. You were moaning and screaming for a lot of it, so it just felt like more. You were really very ill, and I was worried," she explained. "I also had to cut the horcrux off your chest. It had somehow become seared to your skin." She shuddered at the memory.

Harry opened his mouth to blame himself, but Hermione cut him off.

"I don't want to hear any more out of you until you've rested. Hush, and go back to sleep," she ordered.

He gratefully fell into a deep slumber, and Hermione waited until he was well asleep to curl up next to him and cry quietly, eventually falling asleep at his side.

Harry woke many hours later to something warm and soft being removed from his side. Instinctively he reached to pull it back and got a handful of curly hair.

He released it and sat up, smiling at his best friend who now stood next to his bed. She did not look happy.

"Sorry, Mione. Didn't mean to pull your hair."

She stood silently, and as her face grew redder, Harry felt himself pale. Then she erupted.

"SORRY?! All you've got to say for yourself is SORRY?! You nearly died on me- AGAIN- and you go with SORRY?!" she screeched. She reached down and began swatting his shoulder. Dodging her blows, Harry grabbed her arms and pulled her down into his lap. She moved surprisingly obediently, collapsing into him as she began sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she blubbered, "I was just so scared. I had to send my parents away. Ron's already left. I couldn't lose you too."

Harry softly pressed his lips to her hair and shushed her. "Come on now, Mione. You have to know you can't get rid of me that easily. Others have tried." He heard her chuff a small, wet laugh. "Seriously though, Mione. I'm not leaving. Not ever. One troll incident and you're stuck with me for life." At this, he felt her relax, and her sobs dissipated to the occasional sniffle.

The two friends remained in the intimate position for nearly an hour, not that they could have told you that. All they knew was that in that moment, they had each other, and for now it was enough.

* * *

Due to the emotional toll of their Christmas Eve escapades, the pair slept quite late into Christmas morning. They prepared a quick brunch, and Harry moved outside to begin his watch. He'd just settled in for the long haul when he felt more than heard Hermione approach his seat at the entrance of the tent.

"Would you mind some company?" she asked quietly.

Harry looked up, and he could see that last night clearly still had his best friend spooked. As much as he preferred to be alone while he had to wear the horcrux, he couldn't deny her the comfort of his presence.

"Sure," he replied, "have a seat."

Hermione dropped into place beside him, and the two sat in companionable silence as the hours stretched on. The peace was finally broken as Harry's stomach gave a great growl, causing Hermione to snicker.

She stood, saying, "I'll go get dinner started. Hope you like mushrooms."

As she turned to go into the tent, Harry gripped her arm.

"Wait, Mione. Look out there," he whispered.

She turned and looked out into the forest in front of him. Just beyond the treeline, she could make out a glowing shape. Harry leaped to his feet and made to follow it until Hermione pulled him back.

"Hold on a minute," she told him, "We don't know what that thing is or what it's doing here."

"It's a patronus! We have to follow it," Harry insisted. When Hermione just raised an eyebrow at him, he retorted, "What form did it look like to you?"

Hermione looked back at the silvery creature. Slowly, she said, "It kind of looks like… Prongs… but without the… oh. OH, Harry, it's a doe. Wasn't your mother's patronus a doe?"

"YES! That's why we have to follow it! I don't know how, but she's taking me somewhere I need to go," he proclaimed.

"Well then I'm coming too!" she cried. She ran back inside and snatched her beaded bag. When she returned, Harry had already begun removing their wards. Together, they cleared the campsite in only a couple minutes.

Grabbing her hand, Harry took off into the woods at a jog. They followed the bright creature for at least twenty minutes over increasingly rough terrain, occasionally losing sight of it in the underbrush. Just when Hermione was beginning to worry, they broke into a clearing with a large frozen pond. The doe's glowing form walked to the middle of the pond, scratched at the surface, and disappeared.

"NO!" Harry screamed as he lunged for where the patronus had been. Hermione yanked him back.

"Harry, it's gone," she soothed "You can't bring it back." The young man hung his head in dismay. She continued, "But clearly, she wanted to show us something. I think there's something at the bottom of the pond. If you look at where she was standing, there's still a faint glow coming from beneath the ice, right there in the center."

Hermione quickly cast the featherweight charm on them both and allowed Harry to tug her onto the ice. When they reached the spot of lingering brightness, neither could believe what they saw at the bottom of the pond.

The sword of Godric Gryffindor.

The two teens stared at each other in disbelief.

"How in the bloody hell did it get down there?" Harry mused.

"The last we heard, it was at Hogwarts. Someone had to have brought it here for us and led us straight to it," Hermione reasoned.

Harry swallowed thickly. "Mum…"

Hermione shook her head, saying, "Harry, I would love for it to be your mum too, but realistically it can't be her. Surely there are other people whose patronus is a doe."

"Why do you have to bring logic into this," he moaned.

"Sorry, Harry." She grimaced. "What I don't understand is why they would bring us all the way here and hide it in a pond. Why not just leave it on a tree stump or something?"

"It's the sword of Gryffindor," Harry stated simply. Hermione just stared at him. "It will make itself available to any _true_ Gryffindor in their time of need," he continued. "We obviously have to prove that we are true Gryffindors and dive down to retrieve it."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought. "Obviously," she said tartly, "Well, just step back while I cut a hole." She expertly cut a three-foot circle in the surface of the pond, and then Harry stepped forward, shrugging off his coat.

"Harry James Potter, just what do you think you're doing?" she snapped.

"I'm going down there, Mione. It's my fault we're in this mess in the first place. I'm not about to let you freeze to death," he replied.

"And I'm not about to let you do something this bloody stupid either! _You_ nearly died less than twenty-four hours ago, in case you've forgotten," she hissed.

"But my wonderful healer has nursed me back to health," he bargained.

Hermione stared at him, waiting for him to acquiesce. Harry, not being one to back down, returned her hard gaze. She concluded that she was arguing with possibly the only person in the world who was more stubborn than her.

"Fine," she sighed, "But you don't have to strip down." She very efficiently transfigured his clothing into a muggle wetsuit.

"Blimey, Mione," Harry said appreciatively. "This is great!"

"Yes yes yes, now let's not dilly dally. Hand me the locket," she ordered.

A dark shadow crossed Harry's face. Shaking himself, he realized that she was right yet again. If he dropped it while he was down there, he'd have to dive back down to retrieve it, and finding a locket in the muck would be much more difficult than grabbing a sword. He removed it and handed it over, watching it coil in her palm. She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Careful, Harry," she murmured, and then she cast the Bubble-head charm over him.

Harry grinned at her and dove in. What felt like an eternity later he surfaced, brandishing the sword like the conquering hero he was.

"Right, let's finish this!" he crowed

"Here? Now?" Hermione squeaked.

"No time like the present. If we do it now, there will be one less piece of this bastard in the world. That's what we've been working for, isn't it?" he insisted.

She gulped and then nodded. She quickly cast a drying charm on Harry and transfigured his clothes back, and he led her to a nearby stump. Hermione placed the locket on the stump, and she was shocked when she turned around to see Harry holding out the sword to her.

"You get to do this one, Mione. I've done the diary, Dumbledore did the stone. It's your turn. You deserve to kill off a piece of this bastard."

Shakily she took the sword. "How do I do this?" she asked. "Do I just take a swing at it and hope for the best?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I've been thinking. I think Voldemort would have wanted to make sure only he could get to them. I think I need to speak to it."

With no more warning, he began hissing at the locket, and it fell open. Hermione moved forward to stab it when a thick, ominous gray mist poured from it. The mist swirled into a picture, a vision of her leaning over Harry's dead body, weeping.

"You couldn't do it!" Mist Hermione wailed, sobbing into dead Harry's chest. "He's dead! They're all dead, and it's all your fault!"

Hermione stood paralyzed as the scene panned out, showing the corpses of Ron, her parents, the rest of the Weasleys, her classmates. She could vaguely hear Harry yelling at her to stab the locket, but she couldn't. What if this thing could really see the future, see how she failed everyone in the end?

She shook herself. No. This bloody thing played on each of their deepest fears and insecurities.

Sensing her growing determination, Mist Hermione began screaming again. "This is your fate! You can't change it! There will be nothing and no one left for you, you filthy Mudblood!"

This would not be her future. She would help Harry defeat Voldemort, save her family and friends, and live a long, fruitful life. She would not let what this damn bit of soul promised come true. She would write her own story. Gathering her strength, she surged forward and slammed the blade into the window of the locket. The sound of twisting metal filled the air as the mist was sucked back into the horcrux. All was quiet for a moment until suddenly a loud wail that threatened to burst their eardrums and a cloud of dense black smoke erupted from the locket.

After a few seconds, everything was silent.

Harry rushed forward, pulling Hermione into a rib-crushing hug.

"I am so bloody proud of you, Mione. Are you okay?" he asked, pulling back to examine her.

"I'm fine. I just… wow. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that," she said.

Neither said anything further as Harry pulled her back to his chest. She sighed contentedly, feeling safe in her best friend's arms. He buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath.

"How many times am I gonna have to promise you, Mione? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to leave you, ever," he vowed.

He pulled back again and looked down into her brown orbs, glassy with unshed tears. Gently pushing her back from her face, he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers, lingering for just a moment. Hermione gasped slightly and met his determined gaze.

She gave him a soft smile, saying, "Good. Because I'm planning on following you around for a long time, Potter."

He beamed triumphantly and leaned down to kiss her again, more deeply this time. When they separated, they stood grinning goofily at each other.

Hermione was the first to return to reality. "If he comes back, Ron is NOT going to take this well," she speculated.

Harry groaned, "Ugh, I know you're right, but why did you have to bring that up _now_? And I finally got you, and I'm not letting you go." She grinned at him. "Besides," he said, "he's not here now. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

As he leaned down to kiss her yet again, they heard branches cracking underfoot. Hermione quickly drew her wand and pointed it in the direction of the noise. A small ball of blue light floated into the clearing, followed by a familiar head of red hair.

"Merlin, am I glad to see the pair of you!" Ron exclaimed. "I've got so much to tell you." He glanced down at the stump beside him, and his eyes widened. "Looks like you've got some news for me, too."

Harry and Hermione shared a glance, coming to a silent agreement.

"Yeah, man," Harry replied, reaching out to grasp Hermione's hand, "We've got a lot to tell you, too."

deireadh

 **A/N: Hey, y'all! I've been reading FF for a few years now, but this is the first story I've ever written. I'd really appreciate it you'd read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome (and requested!), but flames aren't. :)**

A/N 2: Updated Aug. 18, 2018 to split into a two part story.


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